Consequences
by writerspassion18
Summary: Pathetic, he called himself once again, but no one was immune to the effects of love. It made you do foolish things. Rash things. Irrational things.
1. Catalyst

"There's no need to be so antsy, Hermione." Ron smiled as he led the way into King's Cross Station. "Rose is going to be fine. It's not like she's going to Hogwarts alone, you know."

Hermione smiled at him, glanced down at a grinning Rose to her left and a pouting Hugo to her right. When neither they nor Ron were looking at her, her "antsy" state returned, and it had nothing to do with the reasons that her husband presumed.

The moment Rose got her Hogwarts letter Hermione's anxiety levels had been on the rise; not to mention they'd been increasing the closer it became to September 1st. Every magical child would be heading into King's Cross Station with their families so they could board the Hogwarts Express. Harry and Ginny would be there. James was going into his third year while Albus would be starting his first. The previous two years Hermione had been invited to tag along with the Potters to accompany James to the station and say their goodbyes for the academic year. And both years Hermione had managed to get out of it and stay at home. But now this year, now that it was her own child, she couldn't hide away at home. Six more times after this –no, _eight_ more times once it was Hugo's turn to board the train in the next two years.

Hermione supposed that there was a chance, however slight it may have been, that she could avoid him. As she and her family walked through the wall between platforms nine and ten, it was just as busy as it always was. There were families upon families there, hundreds of children. The odds of being able to pick out his face (and vice versa, hers) from this mass of moving bodies were low. That gave Hermione some comfort.

"There they are." Ron said as he spied Harry and his sister with their kids walking through the crowd. "And I thought I was supposed to be the one to always be late." He added to Hermione in a laugh.

Hermione joined in the laughter. She helped Rose with her rucksack while Ron made sure the last of her luggage was onto the train. As Ginny greeted them, Harry knelt by Albus' side not too far off, and James was yelling about Teddy kissing Victoire as she, too, boarded the train, Hermione's heart stopped. No longer was she paying attention to anything around her with the exception of one blonde man who also seemed to have tuned out everything around him except for her.

"That's Scorpius Malfoy, Rosie." Ron was telling his daughter. "Beat him out in every exam, every essay, _everything_."

"Ron!" Ginny scolded.

Normally Hermione would have joined in her friend in the admonishment of her husband, but she was transfixed. Draco was too. She knew, not because he continued to blatantly stare in her direction, but because Astoria, his wife, was talking to him and he _obviously_ wasn't listening. He soon gave a curt nod towards her, but soon she realized it was to Harry who had given him a friendly nod first. And why wouldn't they acknowledge each other? Harry did save his life in the Room of Requirement after all, and that warranted a bit of mutual respect.

"I'll miss you mum, dad." Rose said, breaking Hermione's concentration. "You too freckle-face." She added to Hugo who rolled his eyes but still gave his sister a hug before she finally boarded the train. The last of all the children were stepping onto the illustrious Hogwarts Express and parents all along the train track's edge were waving and saying their farewells, most with tearful eyes.

Hermione wasn't one of them. Aside from the fact that Rose's head wasn't one of the many children's that was sticking out of one of the train's windows, Hermione's gaze had followed back to Draco who was staring at her much like she thought he would be. She tried to discern the emotions that he was fighting hard to keep from surfacing. Was it regret? Was it love? Was it anger? Hermione feared for it to be the last one for he was indeed angry the last they spoke. It was an awful way to end things, and the hurt look on his face when she had turned him away haunted her even after all of these years. Perhaps her eventual, albeit unintentional denial of him caused him heartache at night as well.

"The train's gone, 'Mione. You can stop waving goodbye now." Ron chuckled as he gently grasped her hand that was moving in the air. Hermione hadn't even realized and she smiled bashfully as she allowed her husband to continue to hold her hand and lead her away from the platform. She allowed herself one last look back and frowned.

Draco was gone.

With an internal sigh she determined that perhaps it was just she who still harbored feelings for the unattainable.

* * *

"Oh, I just can't wait to find out how Scorpius likes it." Astoria gushed. "He'll absolutely adore the Slytherin common room."

Draco robotically nodded, smiled, and replied to his wife's words and had been doing so from the moment he had spotted Hermione at platform 9 ¾.

Hermione.

 _Hermione._

The forbidden love of his life had been at King's Cross Station to see her daughter off with that _oaf_ of a husband of hers. Draco knew that she would be there but even then it still didn't stop the star-struck look that must've adorned his face when he'd seen her. What a failure he'd been after all the time he'd spent preparing himself for this. And it wasn't just months either, for he did know that Hermione had given birth to a daughter the same year he'd had his son. That's not to say that Draco had been stalking his former lover's life. Not really, no. But how could he not know almost every move she'd made since the war when the Daily Prophet took it upon themselves to write a small excerpt on her and her cohorts every few months? With that said, the blonde who now traversed his home sans his wife with a somber expression had been preparing himself for the day that he _might_ see Hermione the moment he'd learned she'd married Weasley five years after the war.

"Pathetic," Draco scolded himself. He added a curse on top of that as he stared into the mirror in his bathroom. He looked worn and tired. He also looked sad. Hell, he didn't just look it, he _was_ sad. He was sad and remorseful, but happy to know that he was no longer angry. He had been angry at Hermione for a long time, but over the years he eventually succumbed to the realization that their continued relationship would've been catastrophic.

But was this any better?

Draco loved Astoria. He really did. But his wife could only fill his heart so much when pieces of Hermione were still so deeply lodged. However hideous the metaphor, Hermione was a virus that he couldn't shake. And he didn't want to. She'd been a part of his life for three years –since they were fourteen. It had been the year when his mindset had begun to change and he had started to realize that the morals shaped by his family and those around him were nothing but pure hogwash.

No one had known it yet, but the Dark Lord was soon to be on the rise again. That summer, the year of the Quiditch World Cup and the Tri-Wizard Tournament at Hogwarts, was nothing to compare to the chaos and turmoil that would follow years later, but it was still the start. Draco had questioned (to himself and himself alone) what need was there for mass murder. At the time he still considered muggleborns to be beneath him and a disgrace to wizarding society, and maybe a little hurtful (but not lethal or terribly harmful) curse here or there would be okay, but torture? Slow, agonizing deaths? Perhaps that was how many of his elder counterparts had started out –with "harmless" pranks, curses, and hexes on the unsuspecting while they were children, and then as time wore on they turned their attention from childish antics to "big boy" magic.

That year Draco had had a glimpse of what the future held, and already he had known that he wanted no part in it. He didn't know what had come over him that night. He also didn't know why that out of everyone there that he could've said something to, it was to Hermione, however indirectly.

Childish banter at the Golden Trio it had been, but the message had been said nonetheless. He'd told Potter and Weasley to get Hermione out of there. With their luck he was sure that they'd be fine, but he had felt better knowing that he'd said something. That he'd _done_ something.

He only wish he could've done more over the following years…

* * *

Draco was the reason why Hermione tried to raise her children with the most neutral opinion of others as possible. It was her belief that any two people could get along given the right circumstances, and if her and Draco's secret love affair wasn't proof of that then she had no idea what would.

Fourth Year.

Fourth Year had been the year for change. That night of the Quiditch World Cup attack Draco's words had stuck with her and right then and there she'd known that something was going on. Sure, the horde of Deatheaters marching through the field was a clear indicator that terrible times were ahead, but the fact that Draco had seem so full of foreknowledge of the event had sparked something in Hermione to make her want to know more. And who else would know about the dark side of things than him?

Hermione would never dare to approach him and outright _ask_ , of course. So, she snooped. Harry and Ron weren't speaking to each other at the time, which meant that she only hung out with one friend at a time, which further meant ditching that one friend instead of two at once made things a bit easier. Hermione spent her alone time tracking Draco down. She used as many charms and spells as she could to listen in on conversations, to spy at him from a distance –including one to read his lips. She'd done this right up until the first Tri-Wizard task and felt pretty proud of herself for being so stealthy. That is until one evening when the halls were oddly deserted that she felt a firm hand grab her upper arm and yank her back into an empty classroom. She'd been met with cold, angry grey eyes and a wand pointed directly at her.

" _You've got one chance to tell me why you've been following me,_ _ **mudblood**_ _, or else only one of us is leaving this classroom."_

 _To say that Hermione was scared would be an understatement. She'd seen Draco mad before, but this was something else. This was something…sinister. Regardless of how she felt, she raised her head proudly, swallowed, and balled her fists._

" _Because you know something." She'd said. "Something about the Deatheaters."_

 _Draco's grip on his wand had tightened, his eyes narrowing at her reply. "Oh? And what makes you say that?"_

" _You warned us. Harry, Ron, and me. You told us to leave, and you wouldn't have done it unless…unless you knew something bad was about to happen."_

 _A flicker of realization had flashed across his features. His wand arm had slackened some, but he still hadn't lowered his wand. "Perhaps. Perhaps not. Doesn't mean that I'm a treasure trove of information, Granger. And even if I was…I could never tell you."_

It was that moment. It had been that _one_ moment when Hermione knew that something was off about the blonde boy who'd constantly made her and her friends' lives hell. In that one last sentence his visage had faltered. He'd also made a slip. He hadn't said that he _would_ never tell her, but simply that he couldn't. Draco was a boy her age who was restrained in the things that he could say whether it was because of _who_ she was, _what_ she was or the information he carried. The weight of the world had been in that phrase, and Hermione couldn't have felt sorrier for him.

* * *

The rest of Draco's Fourth Year had left him feeling vulnerable. Hermione never looked at him the same ever again. Instead of anger at his antics he could see a level of sympathy that he hadn't wanted from her. What did she know about what was going on behind Malfoy Manor's doors? What did she know about the diabolical things that happened when he was and wasn't there? What did she know about the most evil dark wizard who was soon to grace the world with his presence once again? The harshest look for him to bare was soon after Cedric Diggory's death. Potter's claims that Voldemort was back had struck fear into everyone –everyone except Hermione that is. It seemed that she had known some dark horror was soon to come, and the fact that this was it hadn't surprised her.

"Draco, you haven't touched your breakfast." Astoria said as she prodded him with a manicured finger. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine." He lied, a reassuring smile on his lips. "Just not very hungry this morning."

"If you say so. On another note Scorpius _loves_ Slytherin House. Not that I doubted it, of course."

Draco smiled for real this time and slipped the letter his son had written home out of his wife's hand. "'Madam Hooch says that First Years aren't allowed on House Quiditch teams,'" He read aloud. "'It's completely unfair. You know how great a flyer I am. Why did Harry Potter get to be on his House team his first year and nobody else can? What a crock…' Merlin, I hope I wasn't this bitter when I was kid."

"Oh, Draco, stop it." Astoria chided playfully. "He is right, you know. Potter was nothing but a walking exemption to every school rule."

"Don't go talking about school rules. You'll sound like Hermione. Granger," He added quickly. His wife didn't notice and merely chuckled.

"You mean Weasley." She corrected. "She did marry that redhead, didn't she?"

Draco suppressed a scowl. "Yeah, she did."

Aside from Hermione's final refusal of him, her marriage to Weasley had been a nail in an already closed coffin. She wasn't supposed to love him. She was supposed to be with Draco. He had had plenty of fantasies of what their life was supposed to be like after the war had ended. It had involved a rash decision on their part to leave everything behind. They'd pick themselves up, run to the first person they could find to officiate a marriage, be bonded forever, and live out the rest of their lives with each other –damning anyone who said otherwise to their union.

This, though, was all in Draco's head. And when he had presented his plans for them to the pretty brunette, she'd all but shot a curse through his heart. And now, nineteen years later, he still harbored feelings for the woman who'd crushed him. Pathetic, he called himself once again, but no one was immune to the effects of love. It made you do foolish things. Rash things. _Irrational_ things.

Like excusing yourself from breakfast so you could head to your Owlery.

Like sitting down and picking up a quill to write a short letter to your past love.

Like attaching it to one of your owls.

And like sending it off through the large window and watching the bird grow smaller in the distance.

* * *

 **Author's note:** The hiatus is over! Thanks for bearing with me while I took some time away to write. This I wrote in about two weeks after seeing this Dramione trailer on YouTube called "Draco  & Hermione 'Run Away with Me' - Say Something by hptrio. It's another one of my mini stories, four chapters only with each chapter a little longer than the previous. For those of you waiting for the third installment of the Condemned Series, don't worry, it's still coming! I'm finishing it up, but I had promised to come back in February and I didn't want to disappoint. So here's a little something :D.

The next chapter will be up on Wednesday :). Please leave your comments and you're welcome to PM me anytime!

-WP


	2. Comfort

" _You've been following me again, haven't you, Granger?!" Draco shouted at her._

" _I have_ _ **not**_ _, Malfoy! Now get off of me!" Hermione shouted back. She tried shrugging him away from her, but it was useless. The stealthy creeper that he was, he'd pulled her into an empty classroom like he'd done the year before. She was pinned against the wall, his overbearing stature looming over her and his hands gasping her upper arms tightly._

" _You're lying."_

" _Why would I lie? Especially since it's obvious you're off your rocker?"_

 _Draco's eyes turned to slits. "_ _ **Don't**_ _call me crazy."_

 _Hermione huffed. "Stop acting like it then."_

 _Draco was at a cross between wanting to let her go and keeping her pressed between him and the wall behind her. He could just imagine what this looked like. A crazed fellow, hair tousled, clothes askew… Either he was viciously accosting the young woman before him or he was engaging in promiscuity with her. With a sigh, he let up. One hand dropped to his side while the other ran through his hair. Hermione massaged her arms as she removed herself from the wall. Draco was standing in the middle of the classroom now, his wide eyes scanning everything around him._

" _What's wrong with you?"_

 _Draco snorted. "With everything Potter's been saying you honestly don't know?"_

 _Hermione blinked rapidly. "I just… I guess I just never thought of it affecting you so directly."_

" _Humph, brightest witch my arse." He grumbled as he turned to face her. "_ _ **It does**_ _. The Dark Lord's return has affected me in more ways than you could ever imagine, Granger. And you want to know what's the worst of it? There's absolutely_ _ **nothing**_ _that I can do about it. So, go on. Run to your precious Potter and Weasel and be ready to fight. Just know that your lives are a hell of a lot better than mine because at least you don't have to_ _ **see**_ _the devil straight in the face."_

 _Hermione didn't know what shocked her the most. After taking a second to think about it, it should've been the fact that Draco had actually_ _ **seen**_ _Voldemort. But no, what surprised her out of everything was the fact that he had opened up to_ _ **her**_ _of all people. Hermione didn't know what to do now. Did she say something? Did she just leave? Did she move forward to put a comforting hand on his shoulder?_

 _In a last minute decision Hermione went with the last option. She curled her hand onto Draco's shoulder and his shock was palpable. "You won't have to deal with You-Know-Who forever. My friends and I won't let that happen."_

" _I don't need saving, Granger." Draco huffed, shrugging her hand off in the process. "Least of all from you."_

 _Hermione frowned. She crossed her arms over her chest walked around to face him despite the fact he was actively avoiding her gaze. "We're not going to do it to save_ _ **just**_ _you. The_ _ **world**_ _needs our help now. You just so happen to be in it." A sigh escaped her then at the realization that what she said sounded a little meaner than intended. She reached out a hand to his face to force him to look at her. He wasn't even mad when she did. "It'll be okay."_

" _Sure it will." He replied unconvincingly. "Until your lot sees me as the bad guy."_

" _They won't." Hermione reassured. "So long as you don't give us a reason to."_

* * *

Hermione woke up with a start. She was drenched in sweat and her chest was heaving. She expected a warm, protective hand to curve around her body and to hear a voice asking her what was wrong, but neither happened. Ron wasn't in bed. She looked to the night table on her right to find a note written in a messy hand. Apparently he hadn't wanted to wake her so he made breakfast, left some for her, and took Hugo with him to Harry's.

Normally there wasn't a day that Ron didn't wake her in the morning, but she knew why he didn't this time. Last night she was ill. Her head was filled with nothing but thoughts of Draco and it had made her weak at the knees, chest, back, _everything_. She hadn't felt so distraught about him since the last time she'd seen him. How one wordless encounter at a distance could make her feel so incredibly… _feeble_ , she didn't know.

And now her dreams were back.

Dreams of their talks and times together had been a frequent occurrence after their breakup, but Ron always thought that they were memories of the war. She had those as well, but the ones with Draco were always far worse for her. At least she wouldn't have to explain her current condition to her husband.

Hermione slowly removed herself from her tangled bedsheets and recalled parts of her dream that she remembered –which was all of it. That moment was a cross between a normal dream and a nightmare for her. She considered it a pivotal turning point in her relationship with Draco because in some way he'd trusted her then. She had become his way of escape; a way to ensure that the dark deeds that plagued his home wouldn't plague his life. And from that moment he'd become an asset to the fight although her friends had no idea.

That's what made it a nightmare.

Hermione had felt guilty and still did. There Harry was, dealing with Voldemort slithering his way into his head every chance that he got, and she had a way of finding out exactly where the devil was. Not that it would've been a good idea to go after him right then and there, of course. They hadn't known about the Horcruxes then, and knowing now what they'd find out later, she knew that they would've been dead. But from then until now she felt like she should've said _something_. How could she have been more loyal to Draco than to her own friends? To the Order?

It made her ill all over again just thinking about it. She groaned internally and made her way back to her bed where she intended to spend the rest of her time until Ron and Hugo came back. She never made it back to bed, however, because an owl was pecking at her window. The bird was unrecognizable, but she let it inside anyway. The majestic brown owl perched itself on the back of the chair set before her vanity mirror and Hermione went over to detach the letter from him. If she hadn't been sick before, she certainly was now.

It wasn't signed, but she could recognize that handwriting anywhere. It was a short letter, but it held so much meaning for her that no one could truly understand.

 _Tea? At noon?_

 _Please?_

Hermione sighed. Even in a letter, she could never resist when Draco said please.

* * *

" _It's not like I had my ear pressed against the door, Granger." Draco rolled his eyes. "All I know is that the Dark Lord wants something. That and he's going to make Potter get it for him."_

 _Hermione bit at her nails. She and all the students had recently come back from the Christmas holiday. Just before that Harry had woke with a fright, claiming that Mr. Weasley had been attacked. He had indeed been and that night Harry had begun learning Occlumency from Snape. Hermione had wanted to pick Draco's brain about it ever since that awful night, but she hadn't gotten the chance until now._

" _I don't understand how though." Hermione pouted. She sat down atop a desk across from Draco who had been doing the same the moment they had met up. Empty classrooms… It seemed like such a natural habit for them now that it was the first place either of them thought to meet. "It must be some kind of spell. The Imperious Curse perhaps? Harry would never give Voldemort anything. He'd fight to death before letting something like that happen."_

 _Draco shrugged. "I'm sure if Potter died in the process the Dark Lord wouldn't mind."_

 _Hermione's eyes grew wide. "That's not funny!"_

" _It wasn't meant to be."_

 _Silence fell over them. Hermione was back to biting her nails again while Draco kept his gaze low. Nothing was heard for a while except for the occasional creaks and moans from the old castle._

" _Is she in on it?" Hermione suddenly asked. "Umbridge, I mean."_

" _Not that I know of, no." Draco shook his head. "But with the way I hear her detentions go, she's the perfect candidate to be. I even hear talk she wants to form this little squad to keep tabs on the ins and outs of the school. First order of business to probably tag you and your lot."_

 _Hermione's ears perked up. "Has she started recruiting for it?"_

" _Dunno," a smirk crossed his lips as he looked up at her. "Why? Interested in joining?"_

" _Merlin, no. But…I think you should."_

" _I beg your pardon?" Draco sputtered._

" _It's the best way to keep tabs on her." Hermione explained. "You know, finding out what she's up to."_

 _Draco huffed. "And what makes you think that's something I'm willing to do? We may be on neutral terms at the moment considering our circumstances, but that doesn't make me your puppet, Granger."_

" _I never said you were. It just seemed like you wanted to put an end to this war before it truly began just as much as I do."_

"… _Nice guilt trip."_

" _I do my best."_

* * *

Astoria had a schedule that Draco knew by heart. As it was Wednesday, she would have breakfast, head to their bedroom to find an afternoon outfit to wear, meet up with a few girlfriends of hers, be back home before dinner, eat said dinner, and then enjoy the company of her husband either by conversation, reading, or, most likely, intimacy. It seemed fitting that the day she spent most of her time away from home would fall on one where Draco was yearning to see Hermione more than he'd ever wanted.

He didn't have to mention in the letter where to meet for tea. To be seen together in public, even now, would raise too many questions to prying eyes. Rita Skeeter came to mind. Although she wasn't as active as she used to be, every now and again her antics would be up in full force and that was the last thing he or Hermione needed. No, they would meet in an old, abandoned teashop that still held a workable stovetop down below the ground floor. Yes, after all these years the place was still abandoned. Draco knew this because he would sometimes take a stroll around the area (an equally abandoned little town) when he missed Hermione or felt the need for some type of comfort he couldn't find at home. Most recently he'd been there the week before.

And so, Draco embodied the habits of his wife as he tried on, threw off, modeled, scowled, and threw off again various articles of clothing until he felt satisfied with a simple pair of black pants, shoes, light jacket, and a dark navy blue button-up shirt on the inside. He sighed as he slipped on a watch and stared at himself in the mirror. He looked older with the appearance of crows' feet at the corner of his eyes. They were faint and "barely noticeable" as his wife often said when he griped about them, but regardless they were still _there_. Hermione on the other hand had looked as youthful and as shapely as ever.

With a sigh Draco left home. It was a quick two-second apparation and he found himself outside the teashop where many happy (and some not so happy) memories were shared despite its appearance. He stood before it for several moments before he noticed movement inside. He could recognize Hermione anywhere and slowly made his way beyond the door.

Hermione turned to the sound of the front door opening. Draco stood at a distance from her, admiring her slender form as she wrung her hands nervously together. She'd taken great care in how she'd dressed for him; he could tell. For one thing she was wearing makeup. Secondly she was wearing earrings that he'd bought her. He couldn't help but wonder what lie she'd told to Weasley about where she'd gotten them from.

"You haven't aged a day." Hermione said to him.

Draco smiled as he drew closer. "After all this time you're still much too kind."

Hermione chuckled. They were standing directly in front of each other now and Draco's heart was racing. Everything he knew he felt for the woman before him had always been in his head like a long-lasting memory. Now that he had her in his presence he felt happy and guilty at the same time. Happy because his recurring daydream had finally come true. Guilty because he was having thoughts that no married man should.

He cleared his throat as he began to rummage the inside of his jacket pocket. "I don't know if your tea preferences have changed." Draco said as he pulled out packet after packet of individually wrapped teabags. "So I've brought a variety."

Hermione let out a real laugh this time. It made Draco weak in the knees. "Ever prepared as always, aren't you? No need to worry though. Jasmine is still my favorite. I guess I'll…get the kettle ready."

She nodded more to herself than to him and led the way towards the back of the teashop. There was a door that led to the basement where all the cooking happened. The place was as dusty as she'd expected, but a quick wave of her wand on her part cleaned up everything nicely. A little rummaging through cupboards allowed her to find where the kettle was, but, to be honest, she hadn't needed to look that hard. She knew the teashop like the back of her hand and so she knew that the kettle they'd always used was in the top right cabinet furthest to the right. She just wanted something, _anything_ to do to keep her gaze away from Draco.

Having him right in front of her was like a dream come to life. Hermione hadn't expected the flood of emotions she was feeling to hit her so hard, so fast, and all at once. Memories were to the forefront of her mind now and she remembered everything as vividly as though she'd lain in his arms last night.

 _Ugh, those arms…_ Hermione thought to herself as she filled the kettle with water. She remembered what it felt like to be held by them, to be caressed by his hands, to be pressed against his body when he held her tightly, when he kissed her…

* * *

" _You should've stopped him from going."_

 _It was the first thing Draco had said and the only thing that had been said between him and Hermione since they entered the north tower of the castle. It had been an agonizing half an hour –him standing at the railing and overlooking the castle grounds, her standing near the entrance with her hands cupped and a dazed expression on her face. What he said wiped the hazy feel over her as she caught on to the anger in his voice._

" _I'm not Harry's mother." Hermione said sternly. "What was I supposed to do? Put him in chains so he could stay in the castle-?"_

" _You should've done_ _ **something**_ _!" Draco shouted at her. He had wrenched himself away from the railing and was staring at her harshly. "My father's in Azkaban because of him! Because of you!"_

 _Hermione's mouth dropped into a tiny "O," before her cheeks flushed with rage. "Oh, so it's_ _ **my fault**_ _that_ _ **your father**_ _decided to steal from the Department of Mysteries? Well, excuse me. I didn't know that I had to hogtie him as well as Harry to prevent that night from happening."_

 _Draco's nostrils flared. "Watch it, Granger."_

" _Only if you do." She hotly replied. "Your father may be in Azkaban, but at least he's_ _ **alive**_ _. Sirius, on the other hand… He isn't."_

 _That bit of information Draco didn't know. He'd gotten word of what had happened to his father from his mother and demanded to see Hermione as soon as she could sneak away. He hadn't once thought of the other side and what kind of losses they had taken. He looked at her softer then, his frustration with everything draining away when he realized that she was just as emotionally exhausted as he was. The way her big brown eyes were wide and wet at the corners, her bottom lip trembling and occasionally catching between her teeth as she nibbled nervously on it, and the way she tightly held her hands together._

 _The girl was a wreck._

" _Don't cry, Granger." Draco said as he took steps towards her. "You're stronger than that."_

 _Hermione chuckled, wiped away a tear that had escaped and shook her head. "No, I'm really not."_

 _Hermione didn't want to cry, and she especially didn't want to cry in front of Draco. Unfortunately the moment she had mentioned Sirius' name the realization that just the night before he had been killed really hit her. She couldn't help it. She just stood there like a blubbering fool as the blonde before her continued to get closer. Before she knew it a pair of arms had wrapped themselves around her and it only made her cry more. Draco was holding her tightly, his head resting atop of hers as it lay against his chest._

" _I'm sorry about Sirius."_

" _I'm sorry about your father."_

 _Draco snorted. "There's no need to lie."_

 _Hermione raised her head up from his chest. There was a small grin lacing his lips as he stared at her. "I wasn't lying."_

 _A full smile replaced the grin then. "You're two for two, Granger." He told her. Somehow his hands had migrated from holding her around her body and up to her face. He used his thumbs to wipe away her excess tears and then a hand to brush away loose strands of her hair. He looked at her then –_ _ **really**_ _looked at her. Even with the excessive amount of crying she'd done, her eyes still shined brightly._

 _Draco didn't know why he'd done it. Quite frankly he hadn't even thought about it. It wasn't Hermione Granger that was shaking under his embrace, whose cheeks were wet, and who was staring at him with a quizzical look. It was only a girl. A young woman whom he comforted despite his utter discomfort in the art of consoling._

 _It had taken him only a second to place a kiss on her forehead. And while she stared at him with a furrowed brow he kissed her on the bridge of her nose. Her cheek came next. Her lips were last. And although they were last, it just so happened to be the kiss that lasted the longest._

* * *

 **Author's note:** One of the things I loved about writing this were Hermione and Draco's conversations. Aside from fitting them into a timeline, I really wanted to show frustration on both their parts so I hope it showed.

Thanks for reading!

-WP


	3. Confrontations

_Dark times were no longer ahead. They were_ _ **here**_ _. What made it even more real was what Hermione was staring at._

 _It was Draco. It was the start of a new year. It was the start of a dark new chapter in both of their lives. It was also the start of something between them that had begun brewing just before their fifth year ended and continued throughout the summer by means of letters._

 _In those letters harsh words were said on both parts. There was only so much information on the dark deeds happening inside Draco's Manor that he was willing to discuss, but it wasn't about that that Hermione had been berating him on all summer. In each and every letter she tried her hardest to persuade him –to convince him that he needed to free himself from under his family's thumb and talk to Professor Dumbledore, the Order, or at the very least to Harry. Draco shot her down at every turn and even through dried ink Hermione swore that she could pick out the words at which his eyes had thinned and an ugly morphing of his soft lips had occurred._

 _It was an unsuccessful summer, Hermione had determined, but she wasn't through with Draco. She especially wasn't after having followed him and his mother through the dark alleys of Knockturn Alley and into Borgin and Burkes. The blonde may have been able to shrug her off in her letters, but that was only because they were just that. Letters. He now had to deal with her sharp face, her unwavering, angry stance, and a possible hexing if he continued to be so stubborn._

 _But much to her surprise no words on her part needed to be said. She met him in an empty classroom just like all the other times before, and before she could get a single word out Draco had raised his sleeve. Hermione couldn't believe it. She'd read about it. She'd even seen its image in the night sky two years ago at the Quiditch World Cup. But it was nothing compared to seeing the Dark Mark for yourself and knowing that the devil himself had put it there._

" _It was time." Draco said. "He said it was time to officially join the cause and to prove myself. To prove myself and to redeem my family in his eyes."_

 _It took Hermione ages to flicker her eyes up to Draco's and to gather her words. "Of all the times to listen to me, Malfoy, it would be now. You_ _ **have**_ _to talk to Professor Dumbledore."_

 _There it was. The flicker of rage she could read in his letters manifesting itself in real life. Draco set his face to his infamous scowl and roughly pulled down his sleeve._

" _It's always sodding Dumbledore with you people." He spat. "Do you and your lot ever do anything of your own accord?"_

 _Hermione tried her best not to lash out. Instead she took a deep, steadying breath before answering. "There's nothing wrong with asking for a bit of help." She took a bold step forward, not missing a rise of heated color in his cheeks when she quickly grabbed his arm and pushed back up the sleeve. "And_ _ **this**_ _means that you need help."_

" _ **It means**_ _that we can't be together anymore. In classrooms like this," Draco added as he wrenched his arm away from her grasp, pulling down his sleeve once more. "This officially puts a dividing line between the two of us Granger. A line that we're not going to cross the moment we leave this room."_

" _So that's it?" Hermione questioned, her own anger beginning to get the best of her. "You're just going to become a Deatheater-"_

" _I already_ _ **am**_ _one-"_

" _And take orders from the most evil wizard mankind's ever seen-?"_

" _Granger,-"_

" _And for what?_ _ **For what?**_ _When there's a way out just waiting for you to-"_

" _ **There's. No. Way. Out!**_ _" Draco shouted at her. Hermione gasped, and it wasn't just because of his loud bellow. He had seized her wrists to stop the wild gesturing that had accompanied her words. He held them now, in his hands, tightly as he continued. "Things aren't as black and white as you make them out to be. Good and Bad. Light and Dark. The Dark Lord will_ _ **kill me**_ _and my parents if I don't do as he commands. Do you understand?_ _ **He'll**_ _ **kill us**_ _."_

 _Hermione stared into his eyes. His voice had been steady and stern, but most of all, scared. All at once she felt for him. He needed help, but he wasn't going to ask for it. Maybe she could-?_

" _Don't even think about it." He sneered as he dropped her wrists. Hermione furrowed her brow._

" _Don't think about what?"_

" _Telling anyone_ _ **anything**_ _that's happened here tonight. I'm certain you haven't said anything of our classroom 'pow-wows' in the past, but with that save-the-world look on your face I can't be sure about it now. So, I'll say it again._ _ **Nothing**_ _leaves this room."_

 _Hermione was defeated. Draco was very much set on leaving things exactly as they were. He'd stay a Deatheater. He'd do Voldemort's bidding. And the world would know of him only as a Malfoy doing as Malfoy would do –side with the Dark. She frowned deeply and eventually took a long, deep breath._

" _Nothing leaves this room." She repeated softly. Draco, who had snatched his eyes away moments before to look out at the starry sky, looked back. "I can't force you to take my help or anyone else's. Just know that it's not too late –not yet."_

 _She had edged closer to him. He looked away from her then, but she needed him to look her in the face as she said this. She soon found herself directly in front of him, and she dared to reach out a hand to his cheek. He looked at her then._

" _You're just a kid, Malfoy." Hermione said simply. "A teenager, just like me. It's not too late. You have the Mark, yes, but you haven't crossed the point of no return. If you do…people won't see you as a kid, forced into this with the threat of death over your head. You'll…" She sighed, lowering her eyes as she said her next bit. "You'll just be another Deatheater."_

 _Draco felt a lump in his chest. Those were perhaps the most hurtful words he could have ever heard. He didn't want to be "just another Deatheater." He wasn't evil. He wasn't cruel. He had once characterized himself as a bully, but after the things he'd seen, he was a saint by comparison._

 _He was frowning bitterly now, just as she._

" _Will you?" Draco suddenly asked. Hermione tilted her head slightly at his question. He looked agitated, nervous even._

" _Will I what?"_

" _Just see me as another Deatheater."_

" _I don't know… No, I suppose." She shrugged sluggishly as she bent her head. "We've had quite a few talks since fourth year, Malfoy. One rather…interesting one." She added in a blush she hoped the night obscured. "It would be pretty hard to see you any other way. I think I'd be more disappointed than anything else."_

 _ **Disappointed.**_

 _That was it, wasn't it? No matter what he did, no matter whose side he was on, he was going to disappoint someone. Hurt someone._ _ **Condemn**_ _someone. It was a lose-lose situation. However bleak, Draco could take solace in the fact that once he left this classroom, he could forget. He could pretend that he hadn't met Hermione for one of their late night wizarding war catchups. And he could pretend that he wasn't leaning in and making their talk another "interesting one."_

 _Just like the last time, their kiss was long. It wasn't passionate, but rather a sweet touch of their lips with subtle brushes of their tongues. Oddly enough, it wasn't the kiss that made their encounter strange. It was Draco's hands on her waist, his fingers holding onto her hips tightly. It was Hermione's hands at the base of his neck, her thumbs tracing invisible lines up its sides. If they stayed like this with simple intimacies, then maybe, just maybe, it would seem a little less forbidden._

* * *

 _Draco had grown prone to taking late night strolls around the castle. This, he had determined, was his worst year at Hogwarts. Although he would never admit any of this aloud, he felt scared and alone. He couldn't talk to anyone about the plight that was plaguing his life, and the one person he thought would understand was someone he'd vowed to himself never to be alone with or to speak to ever again._

 _That is until tonight._

 _He had always been able to tell when he was being followed by her. It wasn't for any lack of stealth on her part, far from it. Draco had actually been quite impressed with her methods. But he had spent years being cautious and suspicious. His current circumstances had made him even more so. Not to mention that he had become attuned to her scent and could pick her out of a crowd by his nose alone._

 _Draco slowed his steps. He eventually stopped and bent down, feigning to tie his shoes. He waited. He waited long enough until her vanilla fragrance was at its strongest. When it was, the wand he had been reaching for had been drawn and he whirled it with a quick flourishment behind him. A feminine gasp was heard and he rose to his feet to meet the Gryffindor brunette as she flew down the corridor as though a strong, invisible hand had grabbed her by the front of her robes and was dragging her along. Hermione crashed into Draco's front, but he had been ready and stood firm, wrapping his arms around her to keep her steady._

" _I'm getting tired of you following me all the time, Granger." Draco said, his face mere inches from hers. Hermione was struggling against him, but her arms were trapped within his hold. "What do you want?"_

" _Do you really want to do this here?"_

 _She was right. He let her go, pocketed his wand, and led the way into the nearest classroom. Hermione casted a muffilato charm and turned to Draco with a heavy stare. It unnerved him._

" _Was it you?" She asked finally. He arched a brow at her question, but clarification came quickly. "The necklace? The bottle of meade? Harry thinks so, but I didn't want to believe it unless I heard it from your own mouth. So, was it?"_

 _Draco stiffened. He didn't want to answer. Doing what he did and keeping it to himself, it made it feel like it wasn't really happening. But to have it said out loud? To have it said out loud_ _ **by her**_ _? He couldn't have felt any lower._

" _Granger,"_

 _Hermione wasted no time and aimed her wand at him. She held it firmly and Draco eyed the piece of wood in her hand before drawing his gaze up._

" _Really?" He said calmly. "You're going to pull your wand on me?"_

 _Her wand hand was trembling. She swallowed deeply, but raised her chin up in a proud stance. "You… You crossed the line. The point of no return. You tried to kill Dumbledore! Not once, but twice!"_

" _No, I didn't."_

 _Her wand lowered slightly. "It wasn't you?"_

"… _I didn't say that."_

 _Hermione's wand was back up again, perhaps being held even tighter than before. Draco took a deep breath, moving ever so slowly to the girl before him although she could hex him at any moment._

" _Think about it, Granger._ _ **Really**_ _think about it. You're always talking about how great Dumbledore is. How powerful he is. Do you_ _ **really**_ _think he would've been foolhardy enough to handle a random necklace that was given to him anonymously? And that bottle of meade? I laced that thing with so much poison even a toddler would know to stay away from it."_

 _Hermione scoffed. Draco was close now; close enough to put a hand on her wrist and lower her wand arm. "Ron was hurt because of that meade."_

 _Draco shrugged. "I said a toddler, not a baby."_

" _This isn't funny!" Hermione shouted at him as she pushed him away from her. "For Merlin's sake, will you listen to yourself?! Think about what you're doing! You're attempting_ _ **murder**_ _! And you could've killed someone you hadn't even meant to kill in the first place!"_

" _Don't you think I know that?!" Draco yelled back. "And it's exactly what I'm trying to forget!"_

" _You can't conveniently_ _ **forget**_ _things like this, Malfoy! It's_ _ **real**_ _. What you're doing is_ _ **real**_ _. What you're doing has consequences, and those are real too. And it ends, right here, right now." Hermione said sternly. She decreased their proximity and looked him straight in the eyes despite his height. "No one's died yet. It's because of that I'm giving you_ _ **one**_ _last shot. If you try to kill Dumbledore again or_ _ **anyone else**_ _, I'll tell Harry. I'll tell him, and I'll tell him everything."_

" _Everything?" Draco repeated as he looked down at her. "Even the parts about us?"_

 _Hermione sucked in cool air as his hands maneuvered their way to her hips. "I try to forget about that." She spoke quietly. He chuckled._

" _You can't conveniently forget things like that, Granger." He teased._

 _She bit her lower lip. "They were moments of weakness; you know that. It's what you called them. What we agreed."_

" _How weak are you now?"_

 _Hermione chewed on her bottom lip even more. She only stopped because Draco started to do the biting. So much for sweet kisses. His tongue explored the inside of her mouth, her hands on the back of his neck, his own wrapped around her body and holding her close. He could feel every curve of her –the swell of her chest against his own, her tiny waist, and her exquisite hips. He was disappointed at first when she broke the kiss, but he understood why when he felt her tender lips grazing the side of his neck, her tongue sliding gently along with every kiss._

 _ **This is new**_ _. Draco thought._

 _He'd always been the giver of such actions, but now being on the receiving end, he understood why his past lovers stifled their moans and let their eyes roll back. And Merlin, did his eyes ever roll. She nibbled and outright bit; first one side of his neck and shortly the other. He would have blemishes in the morning, but so would she. Draco tugged Hermione off of him and crashed his lips onto hers. He kissed her feverishly, hungrily, and hoisted her tiny frame onto one of the desks. He returned the favor by kissing just behind her ear, cascading his lips down the length of her neck and little circles with the tip of his tongue. She was moaning by now, her breath caught in her throat, hoarse whispers hitting his ears. He knew it wasn't just because of the kisses he was flowering across her collarbone and towards her chest her open robes exposed. It was because he'd wedged himself between her legs, and despite their cumbersome clothes he knew she could still feel him._

 _Hermione's muffilato charm wavered. Whereas movements and sounds outside of the classroom couldn't be heard before, they were slowly making their way inside the room. Among the sounds were footsteps. Draco's hands faltered in the discarding of Hermione's robes. She reached for her wand and tapped it on the both of them, feeling the effects of the chameleon charm as they blended into their surroundings. The charm finished in time before one of the teachers opened the classroom door and peered inside. Satisfied, he closed it after him, and Hermione waited until the sound of footsteps had faded before letting out a sigh of relief and lifting the chameleon charm._

 _Draco stared down at her, her robes half off of her shoulders, her blouse unbuttoned enough so that more of her chest was revealing than he assumed she normally allowed. Hermione looked up at him, how lustful his eyes looked, how lustful he_ _ **felt**_ _as he was still firmly lodged between her thighs._

" _We should go." Hermione said after a moment's quiet. "There'll be more teachers out."_

" _I don't care about teachers." Draco whispered harshly. Hermione's chest fluttered. Her body positively ached for him despite how much she didn't want it to. She sighed and placed two firm hands on his chest._

" _There are other nights." She promised although she knew she shouldn't have. "We should go."_

 _Draco frowned, but he nodded nonetheless. If anyone had told him that she would be the best almost-sexual partner he'd ever had, he would've declared the person mad._

* * *

Hermione sat somewhat uncomfortably at one end of an old, ratty sofa and nursing her teacup to her lips. The teashop held more memories for her than just late night talks with Draco and endless cups of tea. It was in this old, broken down, abandoned place where she and Draco had first slept together and the many times after that. Unromantic, yes. A bit unsanitary, perhaps. But it was here that their growing "thing" had blossomed.

And yes, what she now considered to be a relationship had been simply labeled as a "thing" back then because neither she nor Draco could for the life of them figure out what in Merlin's name they were doing. They'd meet. They'd talk calmly. They'd talk animatedly. They'd talk angrily. And then somehow at the end of it all they'd end up a tangled mess in each other's limbs –moaning, groping, gasping for air, and smiling at each other like they meant the world to one another.

And they did. But they rarely voiced their affections to each other. It was for the very simple reason that words hurt. They held promises that could break. They held lies. They held awful truths that were better hidden and never unearthed. Neither she nor Draco had known what the future held for them, and despite Hermione's persistence in believing that you couldn't "conveniently forget," life outside of their dark classrooms and their condemned tea shoppe had been just that. Forgotten.

With a sigh, Hermione finished her tea in a large gulp and stared at her former lover. He looked agitated. Draco on the other hand wouldn't call it that per se. He was a fracking _wreck_. Coming to their teashop had been a terrible idea. He felt like he had been thrown back into his sixteen-year-old body. Perhaps he was imagining it. Perhaps some old, unknown magic had been hovering in the air all those years ago and now it was unleashing its power. Draco felt like his and Hermione's moments had been seeped into the walls. The rust-bucket shoppe was eagerly spewing back memories so vivid he thought he was reliving them. He could practically hear every laugh, every sweet nothing, every pleasurable moan, and every breathless whisper of his name that Hermione had ever expressed.

On the one hand, it felt so good to hear and feel it all again, but on the other, it tore at Draco's insides like the sharp claws of a vengeful werewolf. Merlin forbid if he lost himself and participated in acts that once had been his reason to live. Especially if Hermione kept fidgeting with her plump, rose-colored bottom lip between her teeth like that…

* * *

 **Author's note:** Well, these were…intense, yet pleasurable confrontations lol. That's all I can say, really. There's such a…push and pull with Draco and Hermione I think, and all they can do at the end is come together in an act that has nothing to do with their shared problems.

Let me know what you think :)

-WP


	4. Closure

_Twelve times._

 _Hermione had spent the past few minutes tallying up how often she had lain on top of Draco after a night of love-making on a twenty-time over scorgified tatty sofa. It included almost every weekend (give or take some days) since they'd returned from Christmas holiday. With sigh she continued to listen to Draco's heartbeat, unsure of whether or not he was asleep, too scared to look into his face as she often was after they'd… Well, after._

 _She questioned their actions constantly. Never to Draco. Never out loud. She just wanted whatever they had to just stay as it was. Uncomplicated despite the obvious complication. It was easier that way. It also allowed her to wallow in Draco's tender embrace with a little less guilt._

" _Granger?" Draco voiced, his tone deafening in the total quiet the teashop was just in._

" _Hmm?"_

" _I… I need you to do something. And whatever I ask of you…I need you to just do it. Don't fight me on it. Just swallow your stubbornness for once in your life and do as I say."_

 _Hermione's body tensed. She knew that Draco felt it because his arms grew tighter around her small frame. Or maybe it was because he knew, as she was doing now, that she would ease her body from him so she could look him in the eyes._

 _Those eyes…_

 _Draco's steel grey eyes looked guilty as hell. Hermione's chest felt tight. He looked at her pleadingly, but she took her lip between her teeth as she slowly shook her head. "No," she said with a release of her lip. "I'm not making any promises I can't keep."_

" _Granger,-"_

" _What's this about, Malfoy?" She asked sharply._

 _Draco frowned. He tried to bring her back to lay her head on his chest, but she was far from the calm, recently seduced and satisfied witch who had been sweetly dragging her fingertips up and down his arm. He sighed._

" _I need you to leave the castle next weekend." He said bluntly. "Saturday night. It doesn't matter where you go, but just promise me that you won't be there."_

 _Hermione's eyes narrowed. "Why?"_

 _It was Draco's turn to bite his lip –the nasty habit he had picked up from his maybe, sort-of girlfriend. "I can't tell you."_

 _Hermione's anger was evident. She scrambled off of him completely as well as the sofa, standing with her arms crossed defiantly over her chest. Perhaps in her rage she'd forgotten that she was stark naked. Had Draco not been so aware that she was foaming at the mouth, he would've stayed rooted where he was, admiring her shapely figure and entertaining fantasies of what other blemishes he could mark her porcelain flesh with._

" _It's about Voldemort, isn't it?" Hermione questioned. Draco didn't answer. He merely stood up just as she had and just as naked. "Draco Malfoy, you'd better answer my question or so help me-"_

" _Yes,"_

" _And…you want me to_ _ **leave**_ _the castle?"_

" _Yes,"_

" _Because something bad will happen at Hogwarts?"_

 _Once again Draco was silent. Hermione was growing red in the face. She took a step forward and placed her hands on his face to make him look at her instead of turning away his gaze in obvious shame._

" _Is something bad going to happen there?"_

" _Yes," Draco gritted through his teeth. Hermione's face morphed into an interesting array of emotions. First was intense fear. The next was possibly disappointment. The last was a resurgence of her fury and she dropped her hands to her sides._

" _Something awful is about to happen at Hogwarts and this is all you're doing? Warning me?"_

 _Draco furrowed his brow. "I don't want anything to happen to you. I thought that would be obvious."_

" _I'm not the only person in the bloody castle, Malfoy!" Hermione shot at him. She let out an exasperated breath and yanked on her hair. "There are dozens upon_ _ **dozens**_ _of students there! Teachers! My friends…"_

" _I can't save everyone." Draco answered her. "One student, they're not going to miss. But a whole horde of them? And maybe they don't leave. Maybe they stand guard and fight." He sighed then, his lips turning into a thin line and his eyes growing hard. "They'll know. They'll know and then they'll kill me. And then they'll go on to kill Dumbledore since I'll be dead and can't do it when I'm a corpse."_

 _Hermione snapped her eyes to his. "Dumbledore? You're…you're still going to go through with it?_ _ **Draco?**_ _"_

 _Draco flinched. The only times he ever heard her say his given name was in moments of sexual bliss. To hear her say it now in such a harsh manner, it sent an uncomfortable feeling down his spine and an overwhelming sense of self-loathing._

" _Hermione-"_

" _Don't you dare." She said coldly, instantly recoiling as he sought to touch her. "All this time I thought we had a mutual understanding. That this whole thing with Dumbledore was over. That you'd found some way out." Her stare dropped to the ground, her hands wandering up and over her body in an attempt to cover herself as she seemed to only just realize she was fully exposed. "I guess that makes me foolish. Just because you were silent on the matter, it didn't mean you weren't still doing it. Plotting it. Plotting Hogwarts' downfall…"_

" _Hermione, look at me."_

" _No."_

" _Please?"_

" _ **No.**_ _" She said stronger this time. "You don't deserve anything from me."_

 _Draco's chest ached. He watched as she wandered over to where her clothes had been discarded in a fit of passion. He had expected more shouting. Perhaps a few slaps to the face. Hell, even a curse or two. But seeing her so stung by his betrayal was more than he could handle. He made a split-second decision then –probably an unwise one –but he would do_ _ **anything**_ _to take the disappointed look out of her eyes._

 _And so he casually walked up behind her. His clothes had been in a similar messy heap as hers and his wand had been among them. He silently lowered himself to it, taking the wood between his fingers and pointing it at the back of Hermione's head._

" _Obliviate,"_

 _Hermione's actions stopped. Draco concentrated hard, erasing every bit of the conversation he'd just had with her. He'd find some way to get her out of the castle on his own. He_ _ **had**_ _to make sure that she was safe. And he had to make sure that she wasn't angry with him, that she didn't think she had wasted the past few months sleeping with someone –_ _ **a Deatheater**_ _–whose sole purpose was to infiltrate Hogwarts and to bring it to its knees along with its leader. It wasn't what he wanted. But…death was a real thing, and he wanted to live._

* * *

That night in the teashop was among the memories Draco was reliving and it was one he was familiar with. He'd had nightmares about that night for years. It wasn't just because he had obliviated Hermione. It was because to this day she still didn't know that he had. He'd gotten rid of her memories, stunned her, and undressed her. He'd lain her back over him on the old sofa as though they'd never gotten up from it. And after that night he'd avoided her like the plague. He had avoided her up until the night just before his wicked aunt and other Deatheaters had infiltrated Hogwarts. That night he'd told her he loved her for the first time. It hadn't been in said in so many words, of course. Being that she had been the first girl he'd ever _truly_ gotten close to, not to mention a _Gryffindor_ _ **muggleborn**_ , he hadn't been very articulate. But she had understood his stutters and nervous hand gestures and said that she had loved him too.

And Draco had prayed mercilessly that Hermione had remembered those words when she found out that it was he who had let Deatheaters into the school to run amok.

It had been an agonizing summer. It had been an agonizing couple of months after said summer that felt like years. Their affections for one another had been their last bit of communication and Draco had spent nearly a year in utter turmoil. He had wanted to know what she thought of him. If she knew that he hadn't been the one to kill Dumbledore. That he hadn't crossed the point of no return. That he wished he had asked for the headmaster's help when the chance had been offered.

The next time he would see her it would be at an awful moment.

In his Manor.

Being tortured.

And all he could do was watch.

Draco gave a shaky breath that attracted the brunette's attention across from him. She tilted her head slightly, giving him a questioning gaze. He looked up at her with a frown. "…Did I ever say that I was sorry, Hermione? About what happened to you in my Manor?"

Hermione pursed her lips, setting her long emptied teacup onto the floor next to her. "You apologized for your part in the war, but not specifically for that event. Does it matter? Draco, it's been nineteen years."

"I know. And even then there's so much that I still regret."

Her curiosity was piqued now, and she edged a little closer to him. "Like what?"

"Like not listening to you about asking Dumbledore for help." He admitted. "I can't help but think that maybe things would've turned out differently for us. That maybe you - _we_ wouldn't have thought we'd be a disaster if we stayed together."

"…It certainly would've helped." Hermione said quietly. "But we can't change the past, so there's no point in dwelling on it."

Silence ensued. Neither had tea anymore to distract themselves with, and so the next few minutes were filled with awkward glances at each other, playing with the hems of their clothing, clearing their throats, and brushing loose strands of hair behind ears.

"You should know." Hermione said after some minutes. "I did change my mind after a while."

Draco snapped his eyes to her quickly. "You what?"

She was fidgeting in her seat, not daring to look up at him. "After we had talked –argued, really –it stuck in my mind for months. And after a while I began to think that…it wouldn't have been that bad. My parents, being muggles and hardly cognizant of what our being together meant, they wouldn't have cared. Harry and Ron on the other hand…they would've gone crazy. No matter how much time I gave them, it wouldn't have been enough. They would've probably stopped talking to me too. But the point of the matter is that it wouldn't have lasted –their anger. They would've hated you, obviously, but I was their best friend. They would've seen past it eventually, and they would've tolerated you because of me."

"That was too optimistic of you, Hermione."

Hermione stared at him curiously. "If I remember correctly you would've jumped at my words in euphoria."

"That night?" Draco said with a sad tone to his voice. "Yes. A month or two after that? Of course. But just like you I thought about things too. I realized that you were right. It would've been a catastrophe. You would've been devastated at the strain of your friendship with Potter and Weasley. You would've hated being ostracized from everyone you cared about. We wouldn't have lasted a year."

The teashop plunged them into silence yet again. It was broken quickly, however, when Draco narrowed his eyes some.

"You'd changed your mind." He accused, a hint of irritation rising in his voice. "You'd changed your mind about us and you didn't seek me out. Why?"

"I'd thought about it." Hermione replied honestly. "But by the time I'd come to my epiphany word out was that you were already seeing Astoria." She bit her lip and finally raised her eyes to him. "I'm no homewrecker, Draco. And Ron was… He was there, ready and waiting to have me. So I let him."

Draco sneered, a baring of his teeth visible. " _Weasley_ ,"

Hermione arched a brow. "Still furious at the idea of us being together after all this time?"

He scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest and reminding her very much of the teenaged boy she'd loved. "There's a difference between being outright angry and simply irritated. If I were to lose you to anyone, I had just hope to Merlin and back it wouldn't be to him."

Hermione couldn't help her smile. When Draco finally realized what she was doing, he began to smile too, letting his hands fall to the sofa and soon getting up to make themselves two fresh cups of tea.

* * *

 _Hermione had scarcely seen Draco in…Merlin only knew how long. His Ministry hearing didn't count. He had been seated in the middle of the Wizengamot while the horde of wizards and witches in the stands listened to any testimonies on his behalf. They were the only way to keep him from being prosecuted as an adult as well as spending endless years in Azkaban._

 _Testimonies had been few. Close to nil, actually. It had been hers and Harry's, and she thanked Merlin that it had been enough to sentence Draco to community service under the close supervision of an Auror._

 _The Battle of Hogwarts certainly didn't count. It had been complete chaos and she'd only seen glimpses of Draco throughout the entire ordeal. She tried not to remember the one extensive moment they'd shared together in the Room of Requirement. Ron's protective nature over her was evident, and so was her lover's hard features at seeing the redhead as such._

 _That dreadful night back in Malfoy Manor hadn't counted either. She was being tortured beyond measure and she watched from her periphery Draco's distraught face as she screamed and writhed in agony. She had wondered, even now, how no one had ever noticed him. Anyone with a blind eye could see that her torture was eating him up inside. It was his utter dread that allowed her to partially forgive him for the night Dumbledore died. Time had eventually let her forgive him all the way._

 _And so yes, it had been a little over a year since Hermione had been this close to Draco, alone and all to herself. They were in their favorite place, hands on each other's faces, thumbs running across cheeks and bottom lips, nuzzling noses, kisses splashing every free ounce of skin, eyes searching each other's just to make sure they were really there._

" _I am_ _ **so sorry**_ _." Draco breathed after he'd kissed her for what must've been for the thousandth time. "It was all my fault. It all could've been avoided if-"_

" _Shh, stop." Hermione said, making sure to kiss his lips for good measure. "It's over now. It's in the past and it doesn't matter anymore."_

 _Draco frowned. He took her hands in his and held them tightly. "Maybe to you. I may have been exonerated somewhat, but people don't seem to see that."_

 _Hermione joined him in his frown. "It's only been two weeks since your hearing. You have to give it time-"_

 _Draco snorted. "Ever the optimist… Time won't matter, Hermione. Nothing matters anymore. All that matters now is…is you and me."_

 _Hermione stared at him curiously as Draco began pacing the teashop. She hadn't noticed it before, perhaps in her happiness to finally have him back in her arms. But now that she could really get a good look at him, he was a mess. His hair was ruffled. His clothes were hardly neat or pressed, and he looked utterly nerve-wrecked._

" _Draco? Are you alright?"_

 _He paused. He looked at her then and could see the concern for him lacing her features. She looked beautiful when she was actively caring for him. "Do you love me, Hermione?"_

 _Her lips curled upwards. "Of course I do."_

" _Then I need to ask you something. Well, two things."_

 _Hermione's brows furrowed, but understanding came in a flash when Draco dropped down to one knee and began rummaging for what turned out to be a_ _ **stunning**_ _engagement ring decorated in diamonds, emeralds, and rubies._

" _Marry me, Hermione." Draco said as he presented the ring to her. Hermione's eyes welled with tears instantly as she nodded eagerly._

" _Yes. Yes, Draco, of course I'll-"_

" _And run away with me."_

" _What?"_

" _Run away with me."_

" _Why do we have to run away?"_

 _Draco stared at her in confusion, his outstretched hand holding the ring beginning to falter. "What do you mean why? The world's not going to accept us, you know that. We have a difficult road ahead of us and this will make it easier."_

" _Easier?" Hermione repeated. "Easier for who exactly? Draco, I can't just leave. What about my family? What about Harry and Ron?"_

 _Draco's eyes flashed dangerously at the mention of Harry and Ron and he quickly rose to his feet, the engagement ring sitting in his enclosed fist. "Ugh, what in Merlin's name does Potter and Weasley have to do with_ _ **us**_ _?!"_

" _Everything!" Hermione shouted, her chest heaving as Draco's. They stood there, face to face, rage etching onto Draco's features while Hermione was doing her best to make him understand. "Think about this, Draco._ _ **Really**_ _think about it. If we did this, if we ran away together, you mean to tell me that you wouldn't be leaving anything behind? No one?"_

 _Draco paused. Truth be told, whenever Hermione was involved thoughts of anyone else took an immediate second seat. But because she asked, he decided to do it. He supposed there were his friends –the few who hadn't been outright maniacs like everyone else involved on the wrong side of the war. But could they keep him warm at night? No. His parents? Well, they were on a one-way ticket to Azkaban now, weren't they? His self-image? He scoffed internally at that and readily said no. It needed a hell of a lot of reshaping now, didn't it? The more he thought about it, the more Draco realized that there was nothing and_ _ **no one**_ _worth holding onto._

" _All I have is you." Draco said softly. Hermione frowned. She began fiddling with her thumbs, her gaze directed away from him. The longer her eyes stayed averted the angrier he became. "You love them more than you love me." He said suddenly. "What others will say, what they'll do, your family, your friends…" A snarl rose to his lips at the last bit and his jaw clenched. "Or maybe it's just Weasley? You and I, we're a catastrophe waiting to happen, but you'll live a bumpy-free life with the freckle-faced redhead on your arm, so you'd might as well just-"_

 _Hermione slapped him. Draco raised a hand to his face, shock adorning it instantly. She had tears brewing in her eyes, but her own anger at him kept them at bay. "_ _ **Don't**_ _you dare think that I love Ron any more than just as a friend. I would_ _ **love**_ _to spend the rest of my life with you, but I'm not running off just so that we can do it. The mere fact that that's what you're suggesting, the fact that you used the word_ _ **catastrophe**_ _to describe us… Doesn't that mean we shouldn't do it?"_

"… _Run away or be together at all?"_

 _Silence._

 _Draco could feel water in his eyes. Of all people to let him down. Of all people to give up on him. Of all people to give up on_ _ **them**_ _. He didn't think that it would be her._

" _Funny," He said quietly. "I have more faith in us than you do."_

" _No, you don't." Hermione shook her head. "If you had, we wouldn't have to run."_

" _Fine. Let's not run."_

" _N-not run?"_

 _Draco nodded and swallowed deeply. "Not run." He looked down at his fist and unclenched it, revealing the ring he had had made with scrupulous care. "I've spent more than a year without you, Hermione. I'm not doing it anymore."_

* * *

One month.

They'd been engaged for one month and Hermione shamefully only wore her ring in Draco's presence. Both he and the ring were hidden from her friends and it irked her fiancé beyond describable words. He had no friends. He had no family. She had both and she was afraid of losing everyone if they knew.

One night she and Draco fought. He'd spotted her in London with Harry and Ron and noted dismally that her engagement ring was absent. It'd hurt him more that the redhead beside her was _much_ too affectionate.

He had screamed. He had yelled. He had caused enough damage in the worn teashop that Hermione had been sure it would crumble on top of them. Once he'd gotten it all out, he asked her one thing: "Don't you want to be with me?"

Her answer had been yes, but she didn't want to be without her friends either. She needed time. Time to figure out how she would break the news to them without losing their friendship.

But Draco, ever impatient, wasn't willing to afford her the time. Either she loved him enough or she didn't. Either she thought they would last or she didn't. Either she was willing to endure the obstacles or she wasn't.

That had been the end.

And Hermione had regretted only ever wearing her beautiful engagement ring on the weekends when she saw Draco. Before he snatched it off of her finger in rage and disapparated from her sight, that is.

They hadn't seen each other since. Not since that very recent day at King's Cross Station.

"What did you do with the ring, Draco?" Hermione suddenly asked. He smirked at her question.

"Merlin knows. I'd thrown it off some random bridge and into a river. After all this time, I'd imagine it's in an ocean somewhere, glittering at the bottom among the fish."

"It was a gorgeous ring..."

"It was made especially for you. It had to be."

Quiet.

"I should probably get going…" Both Hermione and Draco began. They smiled at each other, stifling their chuckles.

"Astoria will be home soon and wonder where I've gone."

"Ron and our son will be home soon as well. They'd gone out for the day."

They wordlessly rose from their old sofa, magically washed their teacups and put them back in the cupboards, and put away the kettle. Once outside they stood awkwardly before pulling one another into a firm, reassuring hug.

Draco took in her vanilla scent. Hermione relished the feeling of being in his arms. When they let each other go, they vowed to see each other again soon, although neither had specified where or when.

A week and a half later, the teashop had been razed to the ground along with Hermione and Draco's memories. It had been such a heavy blow to Draco that for the first time in nineteen years he entered his primary vault at Gringotts –one that Astoria didn't know he had –and spent an eternity inside simply staring at the engagement ring he had told Hermione he'd thrown away. Hermione, too, went to the bank –a muggle one –and entered a safety deposit box that hadn't been touched in almost two decades. She took out a male wedding band and stared at it, remembering that she had wanted to give it to Draco at Christmas had he given her the time she had asked for.

Hermione left the bank with the ring and went to the closest bridge she could find. The ring flew from her hand and into the flowing river. She hoped, that over time, it would join her engagement ring at the bottom of whichever ocean it lay.

* * *

 **Author's note:** I must've read and reread this chapter a million times and it still hits me hard in the gut. I know I've titled this "Closure," but it's rather more a closure of a chapter of their lives rather than for the self. I guess you could argue that Hermione managed it. She threw the wedding band meant for Draco away. Draco on the other hand clearly hasn't, and it's really sad. What's worse is that Hermione thinks the wedding band will meet her engagement ring one day, but it never will.

So I guess sorry for the feels! But I loved writing it anyway.

Hope that you liked it and thanks for reading :)

-WP

 **PS!** For those of you who've been following the Condemned Series, the third and final installment is called "Beyond Condemnation" and shall be up on Sunday, 2/21. Thanks for waiting patiently for it!


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